


Birdbrainned

by Mx Magic Fluffenmew (PerpetuallyDone)



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 02:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerpetuallyDone/pseuds/Mx%20Magic%20Fluffenmew
Summary: Morrigan has always struggled with being a birdbrain, but she knows eventually it’s going to bite her in the butt.  She just didn’t think it would be like this.





	Birdbrainned

To be scatterbrained was one thing. It meant wandering from one task to the next, leaving half finished projects in your wake. It meant living in organized chaos, where you could remember where you last had that thing, but you can’t remember why you put it there. Everything either happened right then and all at once, or it ran sluggish over the course of several days. 

Adding magic to the mix made being scatterbrained a bit more complicated to say the least. However, sometimes Morrigan could use that very talent to her advantage. 

Countless times she lost her hefty key ring in her (enchanted) bottomless pit of a bag, leaving her to murmur a spell to locked doors. When dinner needed cooking, but the tea wasn’t done, a little charm on a wooden spoon kept it mixing. Usually even after she completely forgot about it and went to bed. They were thoughtless little actions that came so naturally to her. So thoughtless that she sometimes forgot they were, in fact, not a natural thing to most people. People didn’t use self stirring cups at the coffee shop. Her neighbor would certainly have a heart attack, if they saw her groceries floating beside her as she fruitlessly tried to find her keys (again).

But Morrigan knew not to play with alchemy. After so many years of transmuting with her philosopher’s stones, she liked to think she knew what she was doing. She didn’t normally break the laws of equivalent exchange. Though she could take shortcuts, the witch preferred to take things step-by-step. A more natural approach. It was safer that way. Far less likely that she nor anyone else would get hurt. It didn’t stop the feathers on her arms from falling out for good, but there was a price for everything, she supposed. There were worse things that could have happened in exchange for one of the world’s most sought after artifacts.

At least she thought so that morning before she lost her adamantine ring. It wasn’t really _her_ ring, if she were to be quite honest, but she made the darn thing. She never worked with such material before, and making the ring was her test. It was no celestial bronze, but still a metal of the gods. A metal she had no way of getting outside of transmutation. A metal no normal person should have. 

Morrigan wasn’t a normal person. She hadn’t been for a long time. Although that suited her fine, she still had appearances to keep. Morrigan Craw, the perpetually smiling corvid with the ten pound messenger bag, who sometimes talked to herself, and owned so many plants and books that her studio looked like a library reclaimed by nature. Not Morrigan Craw, the perpetually smiling corvid with the bag so deep she could fit her niece in it, who murmured spells and orders to herself so as not to forget, and owned so many plants and books that she had to keep most of them in an enchanted trunk that was nearly as big as her studio.

But if she didn’t find that ring soon, she swore she might have to live inside that trunk. What if she sold it? What if she lost it? She couldn’t have been so forgetful that she tossed it in her bag, forever lost among hair ties and glass bottles.

Just when she was about to start upending boxes, stress making her look more like a spot ball than a bird, a knocking started on her front door. A simple one-two-three, then hurried, excitable even. She strode across the room, hand reaching for the doorknob. Yet before she could grab it, it stopped as suddenly as it began. Her hand stilled in the air, hovering mere inches from the knob. She never got visitors before. Hardly ever, if ever. To have one now of all times…

Shaking her head, Morrigan immediately dismissed the thought. With a polite smile on her face, she opened the door. The greeting died on her lips. 

There was no one there.

Her brow furrowed. Perhaps she was hearing things?

“Hey! Down here!”

No, she forgot not everyone stood as tall as her.

Lowering her gaze, her smile turned sheepish. She let go out the doorknob to rub the side of her beak. “My apologies. I’m not quite used to…”

Trailing off, her movement stilled. It felt like someone plunged her into an ice bucket. There in her visitor’s outstretched hand sat the ring she spent all day looking for. Now it seemed she was going to spend all afternoon explaining herself. Whatever she sold it for, it wasn’t worth this.


End file.
